


Another Brick In The Wall

by TheTinKicker



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Formula One, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28812546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTinKicker/pseuds/TheTinKicker
Summary: It's the 1986 Australian Grand Prix in Adelaide, the final race of the season and Nigel Mansell needs a podium finish to win the championship.
Relationships: James Hunt & Murray Walker, Nigel Mansell & Alain Prost & Nelson Piquet, Nigel Mansell/Roseanne Mansell
Kudos: 1





	Another Brick In The Wall

The Brabham Straight, nine hundred metres of full throttle. The turbo stuffed into the rear of the Williams Honda FW11 propelled the car at a frightening pace. It was frightening for some. However, for Nigel Mansell, the leader of the World Championship by six points, it was the most rewarding sensation. Speed and power were everything for a Grand Prix driver, and a thousand horsepower and a respected Japanese engine supplier sounded like the ultimate package. After all, the twelve-hundred horsepower qualifying spec enabled Mansell to secure the final pole position of the 1986 season. 

It was balancing this equipment that proved to be the challenge. The risk of wheelspin existed even in sixth gear. Too little throttle and the engine would stall and too much would burn it out in mere seconds. There was even a second-and-a-half turbo delay which meant the driver would have to be applying the accelerator before even entering the corner and praying internally that the turbo wouldn't decide to kick in merely out of spite. Mansell himself believed the car was trying to kill him at every corner which made the experience physically challenging but just as rewarding. Sealing this year's World Championship in only his second season driving for the great Frank Williams would be the ultimate reward. 

Nigel knew his wife of eleven years, Roseanne, would be watching from the team garage along with Frank and Ginny Williams. The sacrifices made to support his racing career all boiled down to this moment. It was important to keep such emotions out of the cockpit and the racing helmet. He still had to contend with another twenty laps and hold onto the critical place in the top three to seal the title. The concrete walls and bumpy corners of the Adelaide Street Circuit were mentally taxing enough as it was. 

It had been an eventful season, to put it mildly. For the vast majority of the championship there were four contenders and now in the final race, there were just three. One was Nigel's own team-mate and arch-nemesis. The eyes of the UK and English motor-sport fans in the grandstands were all on him. As he downshifted into the next corner, Nigel could imagine what the two blokes in the BBC commentary box must've been saying about him and his rivals. 

#

"For those of you joining us just now from wherever you may be, we are now on lap sixty-two out of these eighty-two laps. The final race of the 1986 Formula One World Championship and the title decider where one of three talented and courageous sportsmen will lift the crown before evening," veteran broadcaster Murray Walker announced to his listeners. 

"With me here is my usual partner in crime, World Champion of 1976, James Hunt. Now James, if our Nige lifts the crown it'll be the first time a Briton has done so since you at that infamous race in Fuji."

"Yes, Murray," Hunt replied in his blunt and forward voice, borrowing the microphone which constantly had to be shared between the two charismatic commentators. "The British fans have suffered a decade-long drought sadly but we are in with a real chance of celebrating along with the crowds here today. I must say I'm amazed at the some hundred and fifty thousand spectators who are now in attendance. It's rather difficult to ignore three different contenders going down to the wire, especially if you're a local." 

Murray reclaimed the microphone, realising he'd forgotten to update listeners on the present race order. "Leading the race since lap 7 is Keke Rosberg. The brilliant young Finn and World Champion of 1982 in a Williams car but now driving for McLaren and this will be his final race of his remarkable career. 

"He may be leading but we have every reason to believe that if he is caught by his team-mate in the number one McLaren, Frenchman Alain Prost, that he will give way to allow every chance of the championship. It's important to remember that Rosberg, who has won no Grand Prix this season is nowhere near a chance of the title, while fellow McLaren driver Alain Prost is shy by just six points.

"Meanwhile, running in second place in the turbocharged Williams FW11 Honda is Nelson Piquet. The number six Williams. The Brazilian who has won the titles of 1981 and 1983 trails his team-mate Nigel Mansell by seven points and Prost by merely one. He is only third in the championship as things stand but as we've learnt countless times before, anything is possible in this sport. Behind Piquet is Alain Prost, number one and the reigning World Champion.

"And finally! Nigel Mansell, who those of you back home are in no doubt backing, sits safely in fourth place. He will take the fewest points out of the three contenders at this rate but since he already leads by six on the table he will still take the title as things stand."

Murray barely had time to take a breath before everything changed. On lap 63, the race leader, Keke Rosberg, could be seen getting out of his stationary McLaren with the right-rear tyre visibly deflated. The McLaren was left parked at the side of the track as the remainder of the field could be seen thundering down the straight. 

"Rosberg out! Keke Rosberg is out of the Australian Grand Prix! If this isn't a sensation I'd like to know what is!" Murray Walker hastily announced. 

Both commentators knew that this moved Piquet into the lead with Prost now second and Mansell, third but the Englishman in the number five Williams who was often nicknamed 'Red Five' still had the title in his grasp. They observed as Nigel Mansell turned onto the Brabham Straight once again and accelerated to a hundred and eighty miles an hour, about to pass a lapped car. 

Then came the shudder and sparks from the left rear of the FW11. The rear tyre simply exploded and the car yawed from side to side before going into an uncontrollable spin. 

"And look at that! Out goes...that's Mansell! And the car is absolutely shattered!" Murray cried out with excitement which quickly turned to concern as the Williams spun from the ruptured suspension and careered into the concrete wall. 

"Oh my goodness!" James Hunt quickly added, his voice audible even while the microphone was closer to Murray. "That's a tremendous shunt with the wall and I do hope Nigel is perfectly alright. That is a concrete wall he has just hit and after such a sudden tyre failure - I can't decide if it was a defect, puncture or gradual deflation - then you cannot blame Nigel for losing control of the car. It's difficult enough to control these turbocharged beasts with four wheels let alone three!"

They could see the nose of the Williams had been torn away, along with the rear wing and debris had been strewn all across the track. The stewards were going to have to do something, either raise a yellow flag to slow cars down or take the decision to abandon the race altogether. 

"We are watching and are waiting to see the helmet with the colours of the Union Jack move and in the mean-time his fellow competitors are still thundering about at full speed. We and the stewards cannot have this! The cars must be slowed down to allow Mansell to climb out if he hasn't been gravely injured, I should hope not! With the debris scattered all over the track which is razor-sharp then perhaps a red flag and total finish to the race will be the best option."

"They should surely stop the race!" Murray continued. "So much debris and posing so much risk to the other drivers. If they don't at least bring out the yellows we'll have even more crashes and a possible death. Common-sense will play a key role over the next few minutes." 

Murray gave the microphone back to Hunt who kept watching outside the commentary box. He frantically did the math based on a simple rule about race distances and how it connected to championship points. 63 out of 82? He scribbled on a blank page and did the math as accurately as he could. 

"Mansell is out of the car thank goodness!" James called out, not just to listeners in the UK but also to Murray who was concentrating on the sum as well as the wellbeing of their beloved driver. 

"And I see the marshals are out too with a decision!" Hunt added and both he and Murray looked up attentively. It was quiet near the microphone and both men knew that they were driving their country mad with tension and suspense. 

#

Nigel felt the explosion to his left rear and the car began to swerve. A tyre failure, it had to be! Now what? Mansell firmly gripped the wheel and locked it in the opposite direction. There was a run-off area directly in front of him where he could coast it to a stop but the car didn't want to. The wall suddenly covered his entire field of vision before he knew it. Was it three seconds or only just one? Formula One was a game of fractions of a second and had a different definition of an 'eternity'. 

He closed his eyes. No point hoping now. The crash was going to happen. He had his helmet and balaclava underneath but they weren't exactly silver bullets. His former teammate and friend Elio de Angelis had the same equipment while driving his Brabham at Paul Ricard earlier that year. Now he was no longer around and it was Mansell's turn to think about how much time he had left on the planet. He felt himself being hurled forward and side to side, being restricted by his seatbelt. His head was millimetres from walloping off the steering wheel. 

The car stopped and he was facing the opposite wall. He was still breathing, he raised his hands to make sure he could and could still press the pedals with his feet. He switched off the engine and undid his belt without even thinking. It was a reflex, he must survive! He pushed himself up out of the seat and briefly stood up on his seat before hopping over the edge and onto asphalt. Debris had scattered all over the straight, pieces of the front wing and bodywork, along with wishbones from the forward suspension. 

He dashed over to the nearest gap in the wall where marshals waved him to hurry along and to get off the track. Before making it off, he had time to glance at his car. The nose had crumpled inward with the rear wing missing and the engine was billowing black smoke even while switched off. Whether it had erupted or not, the bottom line was that Nigel had made it out. Feeling the pats on the shoulders from nearby marshals, he removed his helmet and balaclava. Nineteen more laps to go and he may just make it back in time to watch either Piquet or Prost win the title. 

He shook his head at the prospect but had to appreciate that life was far more important than a trophy. 

#

The entire Williams pit crew was clapping as Nigel stepped safely back into the pit lane. He walked along the wall and nodded as he approached chief designer Patrick Head. He had no doubt that Roseanne was scrambling to get through the crowds. He made sure to give waves to the crowds. He knew what they were all saying. 

"We're sorry but don't worry you'll get them next year!" 

It was important to nod and smile back but the feeling that he'd let himself and team down was immense. Did he give too much throttle on the rear wheels and it caused the tyre to fail? Was there an imbalance that he should've seen sooner and then managed throughout the remainder of the race. 

Patrick Head extended his arms and began cackling once the distance reached one metre. 

"Patrick, I'm sorry. I'll fight my damnedest next year and you all know that!" he panted as he felt himself being squeezed by the chief designer. 

"What are you talking about Nige? You should be jumping up and down like the rest of us!" Patrick chuckled. "Didn't the slow cars tip you off? The engine screams died as soon as you'd crashed. The cars all slowed down, you didn't hear the silence?" 

He was too lost in his thoughts after leaving the track to notice if he was being honest. Nigel Mansell paused and looked at the crowd, whose cheers began erupting as well as the intensity of the claps from his pit crew. He looked further on at the pit entry and saw something he could scarcely believe. 

The Williams of his teammate Nelson Piquet was slowly pulling into the pits, with Prost following him close behind. An entire line of cars were slowly moving off the track and into the pits. Mansell then saw the marshal above the finish line holding out what he'd been holding for the past few minutes. 

The red flag. 

Nigel wanted to make sure and did a quick calculation inside his head. What was 63 out of 82? There were people in the crowds, pit lane and behind their television sets who'd beaten him to it and were making their voices heard. The Union Jacks were flying and Nigel remembered he was still holding his helmet. He hurled his hand up to make sure the crowd saw it and the cheers became deafening. 

Beneath the iconic moustache, the intense smile broke out. He looked back down at the gathering crowd of pit crews from McLaren, Williams and Ferrari clapping. Roseanne appeared in the middle of the Williams crew with Frank and Ginny Williams appearing beside her. 

#

Murray Walker and James Hunt were jumping up and down, making sure not to break the precious microphone. They then realised they never clarified and viewers would be wondering who exactly they were cheering for. Murray was known for supporting all drivers regardless of their nationality. It could've been anyone!

"For those of you wondering what has just happened," he began, catching his breath as he and Hunt had their arms firmly around each other's shoulders. 

"Mansell's crash has led to the sensible decision of stopping the race. The red flag came out and the race will not be restarted! Under regulations, once 75% of the race distance is complete, full points will be awarded in the event of an early stoppage. Piquet has officially won the Australian Grand Prix as he was in front at the time of the flag being shown. Prost will finish second but Nigel Mansell has been classified as finishing third!"

He had to take yet another breath. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen back home, Nigel Mansell is the World Champion of 1986 with seventy-four points!" he then exclaimed. "Seventy-four for Mansell, seventy-two for Piquet the race winner and seventy for Prost! To the fans in the UK we have won the title! Nigel Mansell is now the new World Champion!"

"Without a doubt!" he then concluded. 

Murray and Hunt took the microphone with them and opened the commentary box door and the shock-wave from the applause hit them directly. They darted out and towards the pits. There was only one person they wanted to talk to. The first Briton to win the World Championships since James Hunt himself ten years previously. 

#

The atmosphere was surreal. He made sure to have his arm firmly around Roseanne as they made their way through the crowds towards the podium. The flashing of cameras, cheers and endless pats on the back were overwhelming. The crowd then parted to reveal the Williams of Nelson Piquet and the McLaren of Alain Prost parked and the two drivers were climbing out of their cars. Piquet gave a simple nod at his teammate before walking away towards the podium to prepare for the ceremony. 

Prost walked up to Mansell with his helmet still on, removed his gloves and shook hands with both Nigel and Roseanne. A gentleman. It was time for Nigel himself to join them on the podium and that was before the two familiar faces of Murray Walker and James Hunt revealed themselves. There was a single microphone between them and Mansell received two embraces from them. 

"Nigel, you're World Champion, how does it feel?" Murray asked with his smile. 

He had to blow out a smile and admit he didn't know. It had yet to sink in and that may not come until the next day. He made sure to thank the pit crews, the team and of course Roseanne who was still by his side for all of the hard work that went into that moment. 

"So, Nigel before we let you go; what are you going to do for the rest of the day once the podium is done and dusted?" Hunt asked, making sure he got a question in as well. 

The 1986 World Champion Nigel Mansell smirked as he looked around at the crowds and made sure there was sufficient silence for him to be heard. 

"What do you think I'm gonna do, boys? We're off to the pub!" 

"Who's buying?" a random voice called from the pit lane and a mixture of cheers, whoops and laughs erupted all at once. 


End file.
